The Last Cousland
by Kiraiko
Summary: Ianthia Cousland has lost everything in one night and while she does her best to swallow her pain to fuel her desire for revenge, one person sees it and remembers his own pain faced with a similar situation.


Lame Title is LAME but I couldn't think of anything...

Ok so this is just a quick idea I had while playing the Human Noble Origin. I noticed an expression Duncan made as he watched my character (Ianthia Cousland) saying good bye to her parents and I couldn't remember that pained look of compassion on his face in any of the other origins and it got me to wondering... They never tell you anything of Duncan's past except he is from High Ever (the land the Couslands are Teyrns over actually) and he doesn't have any family. But guessing by his age, he was probably in his early-mid teens when the Orlesians were finally pushed out of Fereldan, which means he was alive during the occupation. Maybe his parents met a similar end as the Couslands, killed mercilessly by the invaders, and maybe right in front of Duncan. That is just my idea, I'm sure others have thought up all sorts of things. Don't like my idea? Then go write your own.

So this is just something from his POV and being a Duncan fan girl I threw in just a touch of romance. This isn't very action packed at all, just musings and ramblings to be honest lol

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She's different than when he first met her, though he hasn't known her that long. He still barely knew her, Duncan served as a father-figure to most of his recruits but he rarely gets very involved in their personal lives, not so soon anyway, not when it isn't garanteed that they'll survive into becoming a Grey Warden. But she is different. When he had entered the main hall at Castle Cousland she had been proud and defiant, full of fire and determined to prove herself the equal of any man. She still has all those traits, but they have changed, hardened in one night. Her fire, once lively and burning, was cold, like hardened steel, solidified by grief and determination.

Ianthia Cousland had lost everything in one night, all she had left was her brother and neither of them were sure he was even alive. And Duncan was sure the young woman couldn't possibly be looking forward to informing her brother of the slaughter of their parents, his wife, and young child. And slaughter was the right word. Arl Howe had been taking no prisoners, he had been sure to leave no survivors. And except for Ianthia and possibly her brother, there were none. Their castle was fallen, and even if it were to be reclaimed it would no longer be her home. Even if her brother was alive and Howe brought to justice, there was no going back for the youngest Cousland. She was a Grey Warden now, if she lived long enough to be officially welcomed into the ranks. They had to make it to Ostagar and she had to survive her Joining Ritual. And even if she did there was a chance she might be killed in the coming battles. So young a life with so much potential, and the odds were stacked against her that she'd still be alive by the end of the month.

But that was a part of being Grey Warden, knowing you might die but doing your duty anyway. But if she was even half the warrior, and the woman, he thought she was, Ianthia would do just fine.

He watched her as they sat around the camp fire one night, a few days into their journey, several times he has thought of making conversation with her, maybe talk to her about her family, about Howe. He could see the grief in her pale blue eyes and can't help but want to help her in some small way. But he never does. He tries not to get attached to them before their Joining, but it's hard to resist the urge to get to know Ianthia a little better.

She's a beautiful young woman, with ash blonde hair cut just about her shoulders, two braids running back from her temples to loop elegantly at the back of her head, a practical but noble hairstyle, which he thought define Ianthia well. She was a noblewoman, but a warrior, so while he was sure she had been expected to maintain a certain level of sophistication, as a warrior she was far too practical to be very frivilous about anything. She's strong and beautiful and intelligent and if Duncan were twenty years younger, he would find it impossible to be around her and not try to make her laugh. But he's older than his years now, tempered by pain and trial and blood and he has a vast ocean of patience and self restraint. But this situation tugs at him. He had lost his own parents in a similar fashion, they had been slaugtered by Orlesians when he had been very young during their occupation of Fereldan. He knows her pain, the isolation and grief she must feel. He wants to tell her not to despair, that the Wardens will be her family now, that justice will be served to Howe, but he knows it would help her grief or make the loss she's been dealt feel any less overwhelming.

So he says nothing, and instead watches her quietly as she sits by the fire, the massive head of her Marbari in her lap, liquid brown eyes staring up at her softly. The dog feels her pain, understands it's cause but like Duncan, doesn't know what to do to make any of it better.

As they draw closer to Ostagar she starts to ask questions, about the Blight, about Dark Spawn, and about the Grey Wardens. And Duncan feels a stab of shame as he jumps at every chance he can get to talk to her, to be near her, but every time they talk he gets sucked in a little deeper. She is stronger, more intelligent, and more amazing than his original assumption and every conversation shows him this. If only her were twenty years younger. But he's nearing the end of his time, if he survives Ostagar he will wrap up loose ends and go to Orzammar for an honorable death and take as many Dark Spawn with him as he can. She is too young for him and if by some miracle she begins to feel anything, it would be cruel to form anything between them just to leave her, she's already lost so much, he won't be the cause for any more pain in her life, not like that. So he keeps the conversations professional, and keeps himself distant.

They've arrived at Ostagar and he sees the disappointment in her when the King tells her that her brother isn't here. The King's promise of justice does little to soothe her he knows. He wants to tell her that everything will be alright, that her brother will be back soon, he wants to push that stray hair that's always in her blue eyes out of the way and hold her because despite her strength and cold resolve, he knows what she wants more than anything is to be comforted, for some one to make her feel safe again and tell her that everything will be ok. He knows what she really wants is her family back, but he can't do that, and he can't comfort her. So instead he tries to help her get her mind off things and sets her about becoming a Grey Warden.

She finds him again at the fire and has Alistair in tow, ready to start her joining ritual. And as the two joke back and forth lightly, she smiles. And Duncan feels a pang of jealousy. He wants to be the one to make her smile, to forget that the world is crashing down around her. But Alistair does it for him. And he should, Duncan thinks. The young ex-templar is far more suitable than him. He has the perfect personality for making people laugh and forget their troubles, it's why everyone likes him, including Ianthia. He's her age, and still has thirty or so years to live, unlike him. Alistair is better for her, but that doesn't help the jealousy that he feels as he watches them. But being a Grey Warden is about sacrifice, they can never be selfish, they must always do what is best for Fereldan and the other Wardens. So he says nothing.


End file.
